She's So Nice
by JenRiley16
Summary: She's the most wicked girl in all of White Pine Bay. Dylan has to have her, but he doesn't want to ruin her life. She chooses him anyway.


"Rachel, can you take that table over there?" asked Nancy, swiping an errant curl out of her face to tuck it behind her ear. "I was supposed to go on break a few minutes ago."

Nodding, Rachel pulled a pen out of her apron and waved off the older woman, who sagged with relief and disappeared. Glancing at the table Nancy had gestured to, she watched the two men flip through their menus. One of them she knew, the other, however, was a new face.

"Hi, guys," she said with a smile, pen poised and ready.

The older of the pair looked up with a wide grin and closed his menu. "Hey, Rae," he greeted, and stole his buddy's menu and handed them both over. "Rachel, this is Dylan. He's new in town. Dylan, this is Rachel. She is the best waitress in all of White Pine Bay." His grin shifted to a smirk and Rachel rolled her eyes playfully.

"Please," she said, "you hype me up too much. Anyway, why aren't you in my section? I'm feeling kind of betrayed, Ethan."

Shrugging, he motioned in the direction Nancy had gone. "I had a feeling she was gonna ask you to wait on us by the look on her face when we walked in. Plus your section was full." His grin widened and then he turned back to his blond friend—Dylan. "See? Best waitress."

The man gave a small smile and let his eyes flick over Rachel, then linger when their gazes met. "If Ethan says so, I believe it."

Rachel laughed, pleased to see that Ethan's new partner was in good spirits. "Y'all are too sweet. And hey, welcome to town. If you're already friends with Ethan, then you know there's more to this place than meets the eye." She winked and watched his lips curl up.

* * *

Sliding into Ethan's truck, Dylan turned to his friend. "Are you and that waitress dating?" he asked, remembering the teasing banter between the two.

Ethan snorted and gunned the engine. "Rachel and me? That's a good one. She's great and all, but the attraction's not there, y'know. You'd probably like her, though."

"Trying to set me up?" Dylan asked with a half-smirk. He tapped the handle on the passenger door and thought about the way her eyes had brightened when she smiled and decided that he wouldn't mind so much.

They pulled up to a stop light and Ethan's voice got serious. "There are only a handful of good people in this town. She's one of them." It turned and they surged forward again. "Plus, she gets the business. That's necessary. Otherwise...things just kinda blow up."

Dylan quirked a brow. "Speaking from experience?"

"Something like that." Ethan shook his head. "But for real, Rachel's been in this town her whole life and somehow she's still unaffected by the shit. If you pursue...don't ruin her."

* * *

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked one night when they were at the swimming hole. They had swam until it got too dark to even see each other, and after drying off, they sat on the water's edge, just staring up at the starry sky.

Dylan laughed and turned to her, wishing the moon was a little brighter so he could glean more than just her silhouette. "What kind of question is that? Are we in a rom-com or something?"

"It's just a question, dummy," she said, reaching out and shoving his shoulder. He almost moved to catch her hand, but decided against it.

"Well, I don't know. I've never really thought about it."

Rachel smiled and glanced at him. She could just make out his profile, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips. "I think you'd just know."

He rolled onto his side and propped his head on an elbow. "Then what about you?"

Eyes back on the sky, Rachel hummed. "No. I thought I would be in love after I had sex the first time, but I wasn't."

"Oh." Dylan stared harder at her, desperate to see the look on her face. "How old were you?"

"When I first had sex? Fifteen. You?"

"Thirteen," Dylan said quietly, and turned away when she looked at him. For some reason, he wasn't so proud of the fact anymore.

Rachel flipped onto her stomach and rested her chin on the heels of her hands. "Oh," she said. "That must have been...interesting."

* * *

"Any tattoos?" he asked after glancing at the helix piercing on her left ear.

She smiled and shook her head, taking a sip of coffee. "I've never liked something enough to get it plastered on my body."

"What about me?"

"Are you asking if I'd get a tattoo of you?" she asked teasingly.

He pinned her with those baby blues. "Do you like me enough to have me plastered against your body?" at the sound of his husky voice, words heavy with implications, she nearly lost her breath.

* * *

"I don't want you to get sucked into this anymore than you already are. I don't...I don't wanna ruin the life you have," he mumbled the last part, unable to hold her gaze.

She breathed out softly and reached for his hand; he let her intertwine their fingers. "Dylan, you couldn't ruin my life, okay?" She paused long enough to stare imploringly at the man, watching his jaw tighten and his eyes well up with emotion. "I'd get...I'd get sucked into anything, if it was for you. I'd go to the ends of the earth if I needed to."

* * *

Dylan's contact photo—a candid she'd snapped when he wasn't looking; he was smiling big and his hair was tousled—took over Rachel's screen and she answered the call immediately. "Hey, what's up?"

Silence met her and she frowned. "Dylan? D...Dylan, are you there?"

There was a low groan and...was that gunfire in the background? "Dylan, say something."

"N...Nick...Ford..." he mumbled, sounding dazed. "Warehouse... Shooting..."

"Oh, my god," Rachel said, already snatching up her keys and bag that had her handgun in it. If Dylan had been in a clearer mindset, she doubt he would have called her, probably fully aware that she would have dropped everything to find him and get herself caught up in whatever shitshow was going on, but she was grateful his first instinct was to reach out to her. Because she was going to be there for him, like she always said, but never got to act on.

* * *

Rachel frowned at the unknown number that was calling. She hesitated for one second, then two, before answering. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Rachel?"

Brows pulled together, Rachel nodded. "This is she. And who...?"

"My name is Jodi. I'm calling to let you know that Dylan Massett is at the hospital in Oceanview, but don't worry, he's alright."

At a sudden loss for words, Rachel's jaw hung slack for a few moments before anxiety seeped in. "W—Wha...? You said the hospital? Wh...What happened? Why's he in Oceanview? If he's at the hospital, then does that mean he got hurt?"

The woman gave a breathy laugh. "Slow your roll, sweetheart. He was in a shoot out, which knocked him unconscious, but he's okay; just a little bruised." She paused, as if mentally going through the questions Rachel had asked before adding, "We have him in Oceanview because we didn't want anybody else knowing what happened. But...he said you might get worried if he just dropped off the face of the earth for a couple days."

Rachel's response died on her lips. Brain running a million miles per second, she thought about Dylan—sweet, ambitious, reckless Dylan in another show down. And...And he wanted to make sure she knew that he was okay... "When will he be discharged? Can I come see him? Or can I pick him up?"

"Don't worry about it, honey," Jodi said. "I have something I need him to do for me later, so after he rests for a couple hours at my house, I'll drive him back myself."

"Wait... I'm talking to Jodi Morgan?" Rachel asked, brows shooting to her hairline. When the woman made a sound of confirmation, Rachel's mouth formed an 'O' shape. "I...I see. Well, thank you for calling. I really appreciate it."

"You and him aren't dating, are you?" Jodi inquired, sounding like she was smirking. "He didn't say."

Rachel picked at her chipped nail polish and thought of Jodi Morgan, head of one of the weed families, taking Dylan to her house. _It's to recuperate_, her brain whispered. _Then why does it feel like more? _"No."

"I have more thing to ask you. What's your last name?"

"Michaelson."

"Ah, so I was right! You're Lucas Michaelson's sister."

Rachel cracked a smile. "I am."

"It was nice talking to you, Rachel. Again, don't worry about Dylan. He's in good hands."

_I know,_ she thought, nerves tightening, _that's why I'm concerned._

"Oh, and Rachel?" said Jodi. "This conversation never happened."

Then the line went dead.


End file.
